by Meg Ripley
“Valuing your honesty doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you,” Olivia told me sweetly. She stopped, and I realized we were next to an old, beat-up Ford Focus. “Here’s my car!” Olivia turned to face me fully and I got the full advantage of her tight tee shirt. My hands practically itched to cup her full, heavy tits; for a fraction of a second they might have actually twitched at my sides.
“You’re not going to bail just because I hit on you, right?” I crossed my arms over my chest to resist the urge to try and make a move; it wasn’t the right time—that was for damn sure. Olivia laughed out loud, the sound almost glittery, her eyes shining with amusement.
“Trust me, that little bit of flirting was not enough to keep me from hanging out with the rest of you. There is a reason I started working with a music magazine as soon as I could get my degree finished.”
“What’s that?” Olivia shrugged, digging her keys out of her bag.
“I like musicians,” she said. “Always fun, usually interesting, and you generally know where the best parties are.” I chuckled.
“Fair enough. See you at the bar.” I leaned in and Olivia stiffened—just slightly. I resisted the urge to laugh again as I kissed one cheek and then the other before immediately turning to get to the van where everyone else but Alex was waiting for me.
****
“Three ball, corner pocket,” Jules called out from one of the pool tables. I had no idea how long we’d been at Lost Weekend, but it was just starting to pick up for the night. When we’d all gotten there, it was just about dead; of course, it wasn’t even five yet then. Jules and Alex were holding down the pool table, one or the other of them switching places with Mark or Dan at the arcade machines.
“What time is it?” I’d finally managed to corner Olivia at the table; she’d been doing a good job of keeping herself occupied with one person or the other—I’d seen her talking to one of the bartenders, chatting up a few of the regulars. If she knows people here, she’s here all the time. How could I have never seen her before?
Olivia looked at her watch, bringing a PBR up to her mouth with the other hand. She took a sip and then turned her attention back onto me. “Almost midnight.”
“Jesus fuck, we’ve been here seven hours?” Olivia shrugged, and for a second—just an instant—we both just sort of stared at each other in shock. Then at the same time we both giggled like teenaged girls. “Fuck, man.” I shook my head. I grinned at Olivia, a thought jumping into my head. “Well at least you know you can hang with a band when it comes to partying.”
“Oh I never doubted that,” Olivia said, smirking. “I’m good for another three hours. Maybe four.”
“I thought you had to start writing the article?” Olivia shrugged.
“I texted my editor and told him I got invited to hang out, and wanted to add some color to the article. He’s totally game.”
“Jules and Alex arguing over whether or not the other one broke right is color?”
“It is,” Olivia said, nodding. “And so is Mark’s epic battle to get the top three spots on the game he’s playing.” I laughed, shaking my head. Olivia yawned. “Fuck! Why did you have to ask me what time it was? Now my brain’s catching up to how tired it should be.”
“Hey—I’ve been up since like…seven or some shit like that, and I’m still going strong,” I said, right before yawning. “That was your fault. Everyone knows yawning is contagious.” Olivia rolled her eyes at me and knocked back the last of her PBR.
“If I’m starting to yawn I should probably get home and start at least pretending to work on the article for the magazine,” she said.
“Aw, come on. You’re having a good time. Getting loads of color. Don’t go home so soon or I’ll have to tell everyone you can’t hang.” Olivia gave me a little half-smile with a raised eyebrow.
“We’ve been talking for like an hour, Nick. Haven’t you had enough of me?” she looked around the bar. “There are at least a dozen women in here right this second who are imagining what you look like naked, and you’re sitting here shooting the breeze with me.” It was true; as soon as I’d seen Olivia at a table by herself, I’d made my move, sitting down across from her.
“Maybe I like shooting the breeze with you,” I said with a little shrug. It was actually true. Even during the actual interview, Olivia had been kind of amazing; she’d completely stuck with her plan of making it like a conversation, and she hadn’t asked a single question that we’d been asked by the rest of the reporters. She had wanted to know things like what we liked the best about touring versus the least, what books we were reading, where a particular riff had come from.
“You like getting laid,” Olivia said, giving me the most direct look I’ve ever gotten from a woman. “And I can just about promise you that no amount of shooting the breeze with me is going to get you laid tonight.”
“I don’t have to get laid every night,” I protested. “I’ve got a hand if I get an itch.”
“Cute,” Olivia said sarcastically. She licked her lips, glancing around the room again. “Alex is doing a good job staying sober.” I shrugged.
“For now he is,” I said. “I probably shouldn’t say this but we’re all kind of...no one is going to like, sabotage his recovery or anything, and we don’t want him to go back to being the mess he was, but you know how it is.” Olivia nodded.
“I can see it,” she agreed. “Mary’s a good influence then?” Some look must have crossed over my face without me realizing it; in an instant Olivia got a look on her face like a wolf that caught a scent. “She’s not a good influence?”
“No—no, she’s totally a good influence,” I said, remembering at the last second that Olivia was, after all, a journalist. “It’s one of those things; one of your friends starts seeing a girl seriously and it changes the dynamic. I don’t resent him for it—or her—but it’s an adjustment.”
“Things change when something like that happens,” Olivia agreed with a nod. She looked at the time again. “I’m going to close my tab and head back. My editor will kill me if I don’t at least have something in his inbox tomorrow—well, technically today.”
“Can I tag along?” Olivia gave me a disbelieving look. “Seriously! I’m not going to try and put the moves on you or something. I just want to hang out and talk. You can work.”
“You want to sit in my living room and talk while I’m putting together notes for the article? It’s going to be really boring.”
“With you? I doubt it.” Olivia laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
“Stop it, Nick. I am not going to get all mushy from you flattering me.”
“You’re blushing though,” I pointed out. “You like it, even if you don’t want to like it.”
“It’s the alcohol,” Olivia insisted.
“Come on. Let me tag along. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” I put my hand over my heart and raised my other hand with my first two fingers up in a Boy Scout salute.
“I really doubt you were ever a scout, or that you have much honor,” Olivia said, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. “But fine. If nothing else I can give you a ride home later.” She stood and I watched her walk over to the bar. Fuck. God, she has no idea how hot she is. Olivia leaned over a bit on the bar, waiting for someone to bring her the bill for her drinks, and of course that gave me a picture-perfect view of her ass pushed back, full and rounded, filling out her jeans like the person who’d made her clothes had had Olivia in mind at the time. I could walk up behind her right now, pull her jeans down and just fuck her like that. Grab her hips and just plow. Jesus fuck. I wouldn’t even care if the whole damn room watched. I knocked back the last of my beer and took a deep breath to try and push down the burn I could feel building up inside of me. I had to keep cool. Just getting Olivia to agree to let me come over—even if she wasn’t going to have sex with me—was a big deal, I could tell that much. If I pushed her too hard, I was going to fuck it up; and if I gave into that tin
gle of electric heat flowing through my veins, I was definitely going to push her too hard.
I got up from the table and walked over to Dan, who was watching the game between Jules and Alex, taking a break from one of the arcade machines. “Hey.”
“You talk her into going back to your place?” I shook my head.
“I’m going back to hers,” I said. I grinned; I wasn’t about to tell Danny that I knew I wasn’t going to get laid. I took my wallet out and handed him a couple of bills out of it to cover my part of the tab. God only knew when the rest of the guys would roll out of the bar; they might actually manage to hang in until it closed at four.
“Text me if you need a fast getaway,” Dan said, taking the money and shoving it in his pocket. I nodded and looked around. I spotted Olivia walking away from the bar slowly; I could almost read her mind as she looked around. She’s thinking she could take this chance and ditch me. She sees I’m not at the table waiting for her; she could just slip out and go home and not even have to worry about me—except that then she’d be the asshole that went back on her word.
I saved her the trouble of deciding, picking my way through the crowd and popping up at her side. “All paid up?” Olivia jumped, turning and looking at me with slightly wide eyes. I hesitated for a second. “Look, if you really just hate the idea of spending any more time with me tonight, you don’t have to feel like you have to humor me.” I held her gaze. “I’m a grown-ass man, and like you said there are plenty of other girls here who would take me home if I wanted to just go fuck someone.” Olivia’s cheeks lit up with that pink-red color and she glanced at the rest of my band mates. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and I saw her chest rise and fall with a deep breath as she came to a decision.
“Come on,” she said, reaching into her bag.
We walked out of the bar together, almost completely silent. I nodded to the doorman, giving him the little half-grin that would maintain my reputation. It was one thing to be okay with not getting laid; it was a completely different thing to let it get out that I was following some chick who didn’t want to have sex with me like a lost puppy. Why am I even doing this? We started up the street to where Olivia had parked. She’s totally right. There were at least a dozen girls in there who would have come running to the table if I so much as crooked my finger. The hell am I trailing after the one woman in the room I know has no intention of having sex with me for?
“You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden,” Olivia said, taking her keys out of her bag and unlocking the Focus. I shrugged.
“So have you,” I pointed out. I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, looking over the roof of the car at Olivia. “Having second thoughts about inviting me into your home?”
“Oh I had those fifteen minutes ago,” she said, opening her own door and ducking in on the driver’s side. I followed her example, pushing the seat back until at least my knees weren’t right up against the glove compartment. “I’m on third or fourth thoughts about it now.”
“I’m serious,” I told her. “If you don’t want me over, tell me no. I’ll kiss you on the cheek, tell you to get home safely and text me to let me know you haven’t died, and I’ll find someone else to shoot the breeze with.” Olivia stared at me for a long moment in silence and I waited to hear her say that she would prefer it if that was exactly the way things went down.
“If you don’t close your door I can’t drive,” she said instead. I suppressed the grin that threatened to break out over my face and did as I was told, closing the door behind me.
****
I was both surprised and not surprised when we walked into Olivia’s apartment. It was one of those old, old beachfront apartments—not quite good enough to be a condo. Whoever owned the building had at least torn out the old carpet; probably after one of the bad hurricane seasons. Jules and Dan lived in an apartment just like it almost. “Not a bad place,” I told her, looking around. Mounted up all around the living room she had posters—signed posters, no less—from at least a dozen concerts.
“It’s home,” Olivia said with a shrug. She threw her bag onto a bookshelf near the door and kicked her shoes off of her feet. Her apartment smelled good—like soap and spices and coffee. It reminded me weirdly of my mom’s place, something about the soap smell. “If I’m going to stay up the rest of the night working, I am definitely going to need some coffee. Want some?”
“Sure,” I said, turning away to peruse the posters on the walls so Olivia wouldn’t see me grin. For once the traffic up US-1 hadn’t been backed up; we’d gotten from Lost Weekend to Olivia’s place in less than twenty minutes. I heard her moving around in the kitchen, her bare feet barely making a sound on the tile. “OK Go, Depeche Mode, The Killers, Nine Inch Nails…”
“It’s not only local shows I go to,” Olivia called from the kitchen; but there were local posters on the wall, displayed just as proudly as the big name acts: Upper Class Trash, The Band in Heaven, The Mission Veo, The Darling Sweets, Deaf Poets and more. I heard a beep and then the puffing, churning, gurgling sound of coffee brewing.
“Did you really want to just watch me work? That’s sure to be pretty boring,” Olivia said. I looked over my shoulder and then turned around. I shrugged.
“I really just wasn’t ready to let you out of my sight,” I admitted.
“Nick, I’m not going to just sleep with you,” Olivia told me, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m not here expecting you to jump me,” I said, holding my hands up. “Coffee, conversation, and at the end of the night I’ll call Jules or someone. Or catch a Lyft.”
“As long as you’re not going to start some shit at the magazine for me not sleeping with you,” Olivia said doubtfully. I laughed.
“Because it’d be great for my reputation to go around telling people that I couldn’t talk my way into a girl’s pants?”
“Obviously you wouldn’t bitch about me that obvious way,” Olivia said defensively. “But like…”
“But like, I could call up your editor and say you were unprofessional or some shit like that?” Olivia hesitated for a second and then nodded. “And then everyone would know that the only reason I’d do something like that is because you wouldn’t put out, and that’d be the same thing as calling up to say ‘that bitch wouldn’t get in bed with me, you should fire her.’” I shook my head. “I’m not that stupid. Even if I was that mean, and I’m not that mean.” Olivia bit her bottom lip and looked at me speculatively for a moment longer.
“Okay,” she said finally, exhaling in a short, sharp burst.
“I get that you have to be careful,” I said with a little grin. “You’re cute, and you’re trying to get ahead. Everyone’s going to be looking to talk shit.”
“You’re right about that,” Olivia said, turning and walking back into the kitchen. I followed her. You keep saying you don’t want to sleep with me. I think you’re protesting too much. “Do you want cream and sugar, or do you take your coffee black?” Olivia started as she turned quickly and saw me only a few feet away.
“Black is fine,” I told her. I saw the quick rush of blood into her face, the way her eyes widened. I felt my lips twitch but managed to keep myself from grinning at that little confirmation of what was on my mind.
Olivia turned away from me towards the fridge. She pulled out a carton of milk, and I hung back and watched her bustle around, grabbing mugs, pouring the coffee with a surprisingly steady hand. She was flustered, but she was holding onto her composure as if it was life itself. A thought crept up in my mind. “Why are you so nervous about me?” I leaned against the counter.
“Nervous?” Olivia turned and looked up at me through her dark eyelashes.
“Blushing, jumping…and you keep insisting that you’re never going to have sex with me.”
“I didn’t say never,” Olivia said quickly, and the color flooded into her face once more. She stirred her coffee so fast that some of it slopped over the edge.
&
nbsp; “You weren’t nervous like this around Dan, or Jules, or Mark. Or Alex, for that matter, but he’s got a girlfriend so of course you weren’t nervous around him.” I inched a little bit closer to her. “So I have to wonder why you’re so flustered about me.”
“Nick, I think you know good and damned well the effect you have on women,” she said, turning to face me fully. I could see the look of doubt in her eyes, the way she was fighting with it. “So asking me why I’m flustered around you…”
“The effect I have on women? Or the effect I’m having on you?” I held her gaze. I could see the swell of her tits in the bottom of my vision, the softness of her lips, the way the blush in her cheeks had begun creeping downward onto her chest, just above the collar of her tee shirt.
“You know good and goddamned well that…” Olivia licked her lips. “You’re fucking gorgeous. If you hadn’t decided on playing guitar, you’d make a killing taking pictures for Armani, or Calvin Klein or somebody.” I saw her hands tremble. “I doubt if you’ve ever had a single woman tell you no.”
“Not many,” I agreed with a little grin.
“So who the hell am I—I mean…how could I expect to make any kind of impression on you?”
“You already have,” I said. I moved just a tiny bit closer, so that we were almost touching; not quite, but almost. “Why do you think I beggared my way into your apartment? If I was just out for an easy lay I could have stayed at the bar, I could’ve had my pick.”
“That’s just it!” Olivia pulled back, until she almost collided with the counter behind her. “You could have had your pick. Why are you—what are you coming after me for? I’m not—I’m not the kind of person…” Olivia licked her lips, and for maybe the tenth time that night I thought that if women knew what that little flash of their tongue did to a man’s brain, they’d be way more careful about it. “I don’t want to just be someone you fuck and forget. I don’t want to be that to anyone.”